Interstellar Zoo No. 1 - Chapter 29.1

Chapter 29.1

﹤War Beast Nerve Damage Proves Reversible﹥

The release of the second video sent StarNet’s trending topics into a frenzy. Within ten minutes, the entire top five had been replaced. Just moments earlier, experts had declared nerve trauma irreversible—a long-established medical fact. Yet within three minutes, Bi Ke Zoo countered this assertion, proving the damage was reversible with a decrease of 0.7 in a single day.

Setting aside how remarkable a 0.7 daily decrease was, even a 0.1 reduction would prove the damage could be reversed.

The announcement stunned veterinarians across the federation, nearly crashing the War Beast Association’s official website with traffic.

While the internet buzzed with analysis of Bi Ke Zoo’s three mental evaluation reports, Mu Ling found herself overwhelmed. Her light brain had been ringing for nearly five minutes. Not just hers—Brother Wei and Xiang’s light brains were constantly ringing too.”

Callers ranged from Shenwang Forestry Bureau officials to former visitors from the Capital’s Technical Support Department who had exchanged contacts during their team-building event.

Exhausted, Mu Ling repeated her answers:

“Yes, the evaluation is genuine. Our equipment is 99% new, no malfunctions.”

“Yesterday it was 70, today it’s 69. Just standard neural stabilizers, doses adjusted by me. Mainly manganese-xin capsules and Four-Pure oral solution.”

“Qilin takes the medicine fine. We just open its mouth and administer it directly. Can’t dilute it in food—reduces absorption.”

“Why two videos instead of one? Honestly, I needed more content. Been too busy to film. Was going to post just one, but when I saw netizens practically planning Qilin’s funeral, I rushed out the second.”

After a dozen such calls, Mu Ling’s throat was parched. She downed a large glass of water.

Wei Li, finally free from his own light brain, asked, “Director, should we release Lightning’s evaluation?”

“Absolutely not,” Mu Ling waved frantically. “Lightning dropped from 65.1 to 62 yesterday. That news would drown us in more calls.”

Xiang Bie, having switched off his light brain entirely, commented while organizing cables, “Wouldn’t it be good publicity?”

Mu Ling nearly broke down. “What publicity? They’re not coming as tourists—they want to buy medicine! Now they’re even suggesting I hold medical seminars. The success I never achieved as a pharmaceutical researcher somehow found me at a zoo. But where’s the time for seminars? I still have to work for the military tomorrow.”

The military’s agreement was 10,000 star coins per beast per hour. Mu Ling had done the calculations: first morning, Qilin and Lightning worked four hours—80,000 star coins. Afternoon, just Lightning for four hours—40,000 star coins. Second day, Lightning alone for eight hours—80,000 star coins. Two days had netted them 200,000 star coins. Add tomorrow’s shift, and they’d reach 280,000.

Between this and Pimi’s 150,000 star coins dowry, Mu Ling’s finances had transformed overnight. She was already planning upgrades for the zoo’s grand opening: restocking the supermarket, hiring staff, building rest stations on the mountain.

Money made anything possible.

While Mu Ling was still dreaming about her 430,000 star coins windfall when Wei Li asked curiously, “Director, will Qilin and Lightning actually recover? Others have tried these nerve-stabilizing drugs on war beasts before without success. What’s different this time?”

Mu Ling explained, “First, the medicine works—it wouldn’t exist otherwise. The real question is why it wasn’t effective before. Think of it this way: with mental conditions, medication is only half the equation. The animal’s psychological state is equally crucial.”

“How so?”

“When you’re sick, what does the doctor say? Stay happy, reduce stress, maintain good sleep habits. That’s how you balance your hormones and get the most from your medicine.”

Wei Li nodded eagerly, “That’s exactly what they say!”

“Same principle applies here. If medicine heals one unit daily, but stress causes two units of damage, wouldn’t it appear the treatment isn’t working?”

Wei Li frowned thoughtfully, “Then we need stronger medicine? If it healed three units daily, even with two units of damage, they’d improve.”

Mu Ling stared at him, amazed. “You’re quite the logic wizard! But triple the effect means triple the medicine—their organs couldn’t handle that.”

“Then what’s the solution?”

“Why not maintain the one unit of healing but eliminate the two units of damage? They’d recover gradually that way.”

“But that’s impossible. The damage always increases—that’s why they call it irreversible.”

Mu Ling shook her head. “I told you—keep them happy and stress-free, the damage stops increasing. Look at Qilin and Lightning. They’re improving because they’re content and relaxed.”

“Really?” Wei Li scratched his head, gradually convinced.

“Trust me on this,” Mu Ling assured him.

Xiang Bie, who had silently observed the entire exchange, wore a complex expression. Mu Ling’s logic was sound—stabilize the condition, then heal gradually. It made perfect sense.

But the crucial question remained: why had Qilin and Lightning stabilized? Qilin had rampaged in the mountains for eight months, yet only calmed after meeting Mu Ling.

The key factor was Mu Ling herself.

She had explained everything except the most critical point—why her mere presence stabilized the beasts.

Xiang Bie suspected that even without medication, proximity to Mu Ling might be enough for recovery.

An increase of only 20 damage units in eight months? Unbelievable.

The wild environment theory didn’t hold up—Bi Ke Zoo had housed war beasts before, in the same conditions, without such miraculous results.

The truth was clear: Mu Ling possessed a unique ability she hadn’t yet recognized.

*

“Well, we’ve posted the video and given everyone an explanation. Let’s get some rest—we have an early start tomorrow,” Mu Ling said, retrieving the climate-controlled blanket from the couch’s end.

“Director, sleeping in the vet station again?” Wei Li asked.

“Have to. Pimi’s still in critical condition. I’ll probably be here for at least another week.”

Wei Li looked concerned, while Xiang Bie merely glanced at Mu Ling before leaving without a word.

The next morning, Mu Ling took Lightning back to their military assignment. Returning at noon, she noticed the lobby couch had vanished. “Brother Wei, where’s the couch?”

Wei Li gestured toward the garage. “Brother Xiang mentioned some issues. Took it for repairs.”

Mu Ling shrugged it off with an “oh” and resumed her routine—feeding the animals, changing Pimi’s diaper, then heading out for afternoon duty with Major Chang.

As this final day of fieldwork concluded, Mu Ling felt relieved. Though 80,000 star coins per day was excellent money, the work had been grueling. Both Lightning and she were exhausted—Her body was sore from being jostled around in the mountain terrain every day.

That evening, after Major Chang dropped her at the zoo entrance, she was about to lead Lightning inside when he called out, “Director Mu.”

She turned. “Yes?”

Major Chang stepped forward, his face slightly flushed in the dim light. From behind his back, he produced a gift bag. “Thank you for these past three days.”

Mu Ling eyed the bag, quickly protesting, “No, please—I was happy to help. The military’s compensation was more than generous.”

Major Chang persisted, extending the bag anxiously. “It’s nothing expensive. Just something I spotted in a shop… thought you might like it.”

After his continued insistence, Mu Ling finally accepted. Opening it, she found a bracelet.

“Just a small token of appreciation,” Major Chang said hurriedly. “I should go. Thank you again.”

He quickly returned to his car and drove away.

Mu Ling watched the military car disappear, then scratched her cheek thoughtfully, glancing down at the black panther beside her.

Lightning gazed back, its emerald eyes gleaming more intensely in the darkness. Mu Ling scratched its broad face, musing, “Major Chang’s being so formal… should we send something in return? What would be appropriate?”

Lightning licked her fingers and nudged her hand with its nose.

Unable to decide, Mu Ling wiped the panther’s saliva back on its fur and led it into the zoo. But as soon as they entered, she saw the ticket office door open again, with Xiang Bie walking out.

“Brother Xiang?” Mu Ling said, surprised.

He glanced at her, then at the gift bag, and simply said, “You’re back.”

Mu Ling responded with a “Mm,” then held up the bag and said, “Major Chang gave this to me. He’s such an earnest person. What do you think I should give him in return?”

Xiang Bie’s expression remained neutral. “Don’t know.”

Then he walked away.

Mu Ling hurried after him. “Brother Xiang, were you looking for something in the ticket office again? It’s empty now, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, heading straight upstairs upon reaching the office building.

Watching his retreating figure, Mu Ling shrugged at Lightning. “So ice cold.”

When she reached the vet station, she stopped short—the couch had been transformed into a 1.3-meter bed.

Wei Li, plugging in monitoring equipment, noticed her staring. “Brother Xiang modified it into a pull-out bed. Sofa when closed, bed when opened. Perfect for your overnight duties, Director.”

Mu Ling looked at the bed, thinking of Xiang Bie’s earlier behavior.

She smiled softly, offering a new assessment: “Cold on the outside, warm on the inside.”